I'm With You
by April Lauren
Summary: VeronicaWeevil. Weevil takes Veronica for a ride, PG-style (A rarity for him). A angst-y fic, focused upon thoughts rather than a general plot. Thus much of it is vague, so as to keep the spotlight highlighted merely upon the mental process of two charact


_Betrayal. It happens often. It is a favorite topic for classic and modern authors. Yet why does it never fail to catch me off guard?_

She feels weak, and hates every moment of it. Tears run down her face, but no sound escapes her lips. She instead bites her lips to hold back all sound that would escape, and her fists are clench in pain.

It was friday night and Veronica Mars was on a city street. The street was empty and there was very little life, although the typical sounds that exist in a club were not far off in the distance. Laughter could also be faintly heard. Laughter was facade, or so Veronica felt in that moment.

Why she was alone? Why was her face was wet with tears? Why was she was betrayed and by whom? It did not matter. What mattered was her emotions in that moment. She stood shivering with only the lone light of a street lamp projecting warmth. Damn. Strength was not always innate, it was going to have to be reached, and only after much running.

_ My life now feels like Avril Lavigne's overly played I'm With You. God help me now._

A sounds approaches her, the sound only generated by a motorcycle. She turns and can see Weevil has driven up. He was the last person she expected to see, although it made sense that he would travel in this part of town. She does not speak, for he now sees her in her vulnerable state; he can see her mascara stained face. What was there to say? He is silent for a minute, she can not read his gaze, but she notes his lips are hard. He looks as exhausted as she does, although she does not know why. He finally pulls out a helmet and reaches it out to her. " Get on," He tells her simply. He does not ask her any questions. _That is very like Weevil._ Veronica is strangely grateful. She looks at the helmet, it is tempting; it means escape.

" Where are we going?" She asks.

" Does it matter?" He shrugs, " It is not about the destination, it is goin' to be about the journey."

" I did not know you were a closet-Buddhist," She replies, feeling her old snark coming into play. It did not matter what state she would be in, she would always have it now.

He shrugs, but does not concern himself with a reply. He is only concerned with reaching out his helmet to her. Veronica looks at it again. With every impulse shooting her forward she takes it and forces it upon her head. She climbs behind Weevil on the bike. He puts the bike forward and they pull out of that street. Veronica does not look back. With her arms are around Weevil's body, she feels her mind as in a daze. Why was she here? She never would have imagined herself in this situation? What was she doing with Weevil? And what was he doing with her? And did it all really matter?

He drove along the beach. In the night one could still see the white of waves lapping up to the shore. That was always consistent, it never changed. _Rather like betrayal. Rather like life._ The wind tossed her tousled hair around with a vengeance. The cold air rushed to her and revived her. It was welcome. She could see why this was Weevil's preferred mode of transportation. She wished she could do this every night. For miles he drove, she did not know where they were going. She did not recognize her surroundings. But it did not matter, she wished he would drive forever. It exhilarated her.

But finally Weevil pulled up into a town. It was not a large one, it was a simple seafaring town. _Quaint._ Veronica watched as Weevil got off the bike, the little town outlined his profile, and they did not go; Weevil did not fit. The picture was one of irony. She appreciated irony. She followed him down a street. " This is a place I like to come to," he explained. " Not many know of it, but now you do." They turned down a little alley, and Veronica saw what he was referring to. It was a wall, a wall that did not fit in this seafaring town, but fit with Weevil. It was a wall of graffiti and art. Colors of all shades covered this wall completely, but black and red were the most prominent. Each picture was different, and each told a different story. There was a picture of a girl reaching out to grasp only nothing, her face grotesque with pain. Yet there was another picture, this one of a rose against a black background. Veronica felt herself attracted to this wall.

She folded her arms and studied each drawing. The bike ride had done her good, she felt more like herself. She could study these drawings with a clear mind. " Did you contribute to this wall?" She asked.

Weevil pointed to a picture on the last corner. It was a picture of what was Christ upon a cross, upon his face blood stained it and his body upon a black cross. " Forget Mel Gibson's Passion, it is Weevil's Passion," She said turning to him, but his focus was upon the drawing. " It is well done," she added. He looked at her and a smile grew upon his face, it was almost cocky. _That was Weevil._

She looked back at the picture. " Thanks," she commented quietly as she looked at the picture. She now fully saw Weevil as he was, and she understood him; just as he had seen her as she was, and he understood her. They were even.

His tattooed arms were now crossed, his face was serious, " There's only one other person I've let seen this," He said with his head tilted, and his was face pensive as he watched her.

" Lilly," Veronica whispered, it was statement and not a question.

She looked at him, his face looked unusually weak. " Yeah," He replied in a pained tone. She did not ask him anymore, he would not reveal more if she did, this she knew.

She followed him back to the bike, and they drove off together. It was going to be a long drive back. She was thankful for that.

Weevil could feel her arms around him. She never knew that he watched her, this he mused upon. He kept his eye out for her at school, almost protectively. She did not know that he was always willing to help and it was not from a sense of debt. He had paid his debt long ago. She did not know that he looked forward to assisting her. He wanted to be there. It was something he lived by; those he cared for he would look out for no matter what the cost. She still did not know it, this he knew. Perhaps she never would. But no matter what the cost he would be there if she needed him.

He pulled up in front her residence. Veronica got off the bike. She took off her helmet and handed it back to him. " You know, you are not the bad boy you are made out to be," She said with raised eyebrows.

" Hey," Weevil became defensive, " Don't make me do something to keep that reputation." He pointed at her.

For the first time that night a small smile crossed her lips, " I'll keep your secret."

She turned to go up the steps. But then turned around, " Weevil, thanks again," She really meant it.

He nodded. Both then saw a light at the window in the house next door. Mrs. Dorsey. Another wise known as the leader of all nosy neighbors in Neptune. Mrs. Dorsey's face was shocked as she looked out at them in her nightgown. _This is sure to create scandal. What else is new? Bring it on._

Weevil apparently thought the same thing and relished it, his eyes alighted upon Veronica with a mischievous glint. " You know, " he said loudly, " Weevil will always love you long time." He then fired up his engine and was gone.

Veronica watched him drive off. She then waved to her neighbor with a smile, and went in.

She was still betrayed. It still was a bitter night. It always would be. But...

_ When in doubt, ride a motorcycle with a guy just as vulnerable as you_ - It was her new motto.

end -


End file.
